Rickonned
by Sillycritter
Summary: Rick doesn't deal with making mistakes easily. This one nearly costs him his sanity. Takes place after the events of "M. Night Shaym-Aliens!" from Season 1. EDIT: Title changed for much needed humor.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** It should probably be obvious, but I don't own "Rick and Morty". If I did, would I be writing fanfiction? (Perhaps, but it would also be in the show.)

 **Author's Note#1:** I got this idea after watching the end of "M. Night Shaym-Aliens!". (In case you didn't know, each episode has a little epilogue after the credits.) Clearly this whole escapade messed Rick up more than he would ever let on. This is the aftermath. Enjoy!

 **Author's Note#2:** Consider this story a revision/contiuation of "Cracked" which I probably won't revisit or continue. It's going to be a little similar but also quite different. It's rated M for violence and triggering material (PTSD, depression, ect.). You have been forewarned.

PS: I have not forgotten about "The Greatest Rick of them All". Just taking a break. :) Thanks for reading!

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The last thing Morty ever expected was to have Rick holding a knife to his throat at one am; least of all for his grandfather to be screaming bloody murder in his face and demanding to know if he was a "simulation" or not.

For one thing, Morty didn't even really get entirely what a "simulation" was to begin with. He'd heard the term used by his grandfather before, but it was spoken of casually in conversation and never about anything that had held his interest for too long. He'd concluded it had something to do with not being real, or something that messed up with a person's reality….but the thing that really disturbed him, more so than the even itself, was why Rick would even need to know whether _he_ was real or not-now, that made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever.

The night Rick had put he knife to his throat, it had come completely unexpected, and entirely without warning: he'd been sleeping, peacefully dreaming something about making out with Jessica-and then, suddenly, Rick was in his face, blabbering drunkenly about some "rocky road" ice cream or something, and then all of a sudden a knife was at his throat, and Rick was screaming harshly in his face, spit flying everywhere, the words "Are you a simulation Morty!? HUH!? Are you a simulation!?" Rick's hand was gripping his hair, pulling hard, and he was paralyzed with fear….

Thankfully, after he'd repeated "no" as many times as he could strangle out, Rick seemed to have snapped to his senses, slurringly apologized, and then toppled over with abandon, completely having passed out on his floor.

Needless to say, Morty hadn't slept a wink for the rest of that night.

He'd meant to bring it up to Rick the next day after school, but Rick had been gone without leaving a note. By the time Rick had returned, it was well past his bedtime, and he had a test the next day, so Morty went to bed early. Exhausted by a full day of school and homework, he'd collapsed on his bed, and was soon snoring loudly.

The next thing he knew, his room was flooded with light, and when he looked up, there was Rick, eyes bloodshot and narrowed as he stared down at him glaring dangerously. Morty's eyes widened with horror and he sat up in a panic. "Ri-WHAT-"

A harsh slap to his face left Morty shaking, holding his stinging skin in shock. "Ow! That hurt! Rick you hurt me! Why, why are you-"

"SHUT the hell up MORTY!" Another harsh blow nearly deafened him and before he could respond, Morty was sprawled out on the floor, hugging himself in terror as he stared up at Rick in disbelief.

"Rick…" Morty whimpered, his whole body shaking, eyes filling with tears as he stared up at his grandfather, who had never laid a hand on him before. "please…"

Rick simply responded by snatching him up by the collar, shoving him across the room and pinning him against the wall. Morty could only stare helplessly as Rick snickered sneering wickedly in his face, "Save it for the Zigerion Council, MORTY….I know you'll have plenty to report to them when we're done." His grandfather's breath was laden with the stench of alchohol and Morty had never seen Rick's eyes so red. His grandfather was completely intoxicated, more than Morty had ever seen him to be. He was acting completly unlike himself; Morty had never experienced anything like this from him before, and it terrified him to his very core.

"Wha..why are you doing this to me Rick?" Morty stammered weakly, nearly breathless as he struggled against Rick's persistant hold. "Wha-what's gotten into you?!"

"NOTHING'S gotten into ME, Morty," Rick declared, glowering back at Morty suspiciously, as he continued to keep Morty glued to the wall, "This isn't about ME. I KNOW I'm just a simulation MORTY-we're ALL just a bunch of simulations, and this is just someone's idea of a joke, and we're all the butt of it-you, me everyone! UNLESS," Rick concluded, with a leering grin that made Morty feel in the knees, "you can prove to me that I'm real….then….MAYBE there's hope for us, MORTY."

"Rick…" Morty's head was spinning. "I-I don't understand, what are you-"

"See what I mean? That's JUST like something a simulation Morty would say-typical! AND lame! C'mon, really? You guys couldn't do better than that!?" Rick, his hand still grasping Morty's shirt, whirled around the room, and helpless to do anything else, Morty spun around with him, thrown about like a ragdoll, "I mean seriousy, you're dealing with the smartest guy in the universe! How about getting someone with some actual talent this time around, huh? HUH!?"

"RICK! You're, you're REAL! Of COURSE you're real-how could you NOT be? I-I don't get it!" Morty felt his eyes stinging; his stomach lurched dangerously with each toss and turn dealt by Rick, and the room was spinning like a tilt-a-whirl. "What-what's going on? Ohhh...I'm gonna throw up Rick-please, stop it, just let me go!"

"Ah-ah-ah, MORTY-not this time." Without warning, Rick suddenly opened his fist and let Morty drop. Morty was about to scramble away, but once again, Rick was right in his face, breathing hot liquor-laden breath down his neck, hands on either side, and Morty was paralyzed with a fear he'd never expect to feel when looking up at someone he trusted, someone he called friend-more than family-someone he downright cherished and loved. "I'm gonna get the truth out of you Morty," Rick hissed in his face, "and I'm gonna get it NOW-and you're gonna make sure that-that I-that is to say we-willl…Unnnf-"

Before Morty could even comprehend what was happening, Rick's arms gave way and he plummeted down onto Morty with so much force that Morty almost passed out from the shock of his grandfather's weight.

When he opened his eyes, shivering uncontrollably, Morty was both horrified and relieved to find that Rick had passed out again, this time completely on top of his own grandson's body, and Morty was pinned to the floor, nearly unable to move.

"Oh geeze...oh Rick….oh my God, oh my God…" In spite of himself, Morty was beginning to hyperventilate. Part of him wanted to scream desperately for help, but another part didn't want to put the rest of his family in danger. He also knew he had to get himself out from under Rick somehow; it was really getting difficult to breath. His mind swam with a thousand different questions, replaying what had just happened over and over, and tears began to prick his eyelids; furious at them, Morty squeezed them back and shut his eyes, scrinching them up tight as he tried to free himself. "What the hell Rick...what the hell…." was all Morty could manage to mutter as he struggled to push and pull himself out from under Rick's stomach.

He could tell Rick was still alive (thank God) as the old man was beginning to snore-loudly-and while that was a relief, the thought also terrified him….because what was he going to do when Rick woke up? He could barely process what had just occured, let alone deal with a psychotic grandfather first thing in the morning. He had to get out from this death trap, and then he had to wake Rick up and keep him somehow safe and contained-and also-dare he think it-keep Rick from….killing him?

What had gotten into Rick to make him do someting like this? Morty was completely at a loss. He'd never seen Rick like this before. Sure, his grandfather was kind of crazy, but not that kind of crazy-never to the point of hurting him, or putting his life in danger. It was almost like someone or something had taken over Rick, and turned him into a completely different person. It scared Morty like nothing had ever scared him before...it terrified him to no end.

Somehow, Morty was able to finally free himself and dislodge his limbs, though when he managed to stand, he could barely walk; his legs felt like rubber. Rick lay in a heap on the floor, still snoring, completely oblivous to the terror he had just caused.

 _Hopefully he'll wake up on his own,_ Morty thought wearily, suddenly completely drained and having no motivation to do anything. Fearing the snoring might wake one of his family members, Morty tip-toed carefully over to the door, and quietly as possible closed it and turned the lock, checking twice to make sure it was secure.

He sat up the rest of the night, wide awake and watching Rick like a hawk, wondering what the first rays of daylight might bring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty".

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A shrill alarm snapped Morty awake, just as the first rays of light were streaming in through the window. At first, all he could think about was how hungry he was, and how exhausted he felt. Then, as his mind began to clear, scenes from the night before began to filter in….and Morty felt his throat run dry as he recalled how….crazy, how out of control Rick had been…

His heart began to beat, wildly, almost thumping itself out of his chest.

Morty hugged his knees to his chest, shivering slightly, but it wasn't from the draft of cool morning air. It was because he was alone-alone-which meant Rick was gone, and to where, Morty had not a clue. Perhaps he would come back at any second and hurt him again. Morty tried to gulp back his fear but his stomach flipped in spite of himself. He was downright petrified, and bewildered, and didn't know what to do next.

The whole thing felt like a nightmare-had it even really happened?-Morty had never experienced anything like it before in his life. He simply ccouldn't understand it. What had gotten into his grandfather, to make him act that way? Morty tried to push the vision of his grandfather's cold and threatening eyes as he bore them down into Morty's soul. Morty could only imagine what had caused this unpresidented change, but he knew none of the reasons were good. He'd never thought Rick would ever hurt him, especially not that way, and it had hurt not just physically, but deep in the very marrow of his bones, at the very core of his soul. Even though Rick was an ass a lot of the time, Morty loved his grandfather...and he thought he'd gotten to know Rick enough to trust him, completely-even trust him with his life. Now, Rick-for reasons he couldn't fathom-was acting like a complete stranger-like he was a complete stranger….as though he didn't know Morty at all, or didn't trust him, or thought-Morty couldn't understand it-like he was an _enemy_ towards him.

The very thought of it brought unbidden tears to Morty's eyes, but he squeezed his eyes tight to keep them at bay. He was going to have to figure something out, and he'd have to do it like a man-by using his head, instead of like he usually did, with his heart. Rick didn't rely on his feelings to solve problems, Morty knew; that wasn't his style. This time, Morty was going to try to follow his lead-because for reasons beyond his comprehension, Rick wasn't being Rick, so he would have to be Rick for him.

All this thinking, however, had caused him to lose his appetite. He knew he'd have to make an appearance at the breakfast table even so (he didn't want anyone to worry) so he reluctantly slid from the bed and dragged his feet out the door and down the hall to the dining room, where he knew his family would be waiting.

And they were just like he expected-sitting there around the table-but they weren't waiting. Everyone was already digging into their food.

And Morty's heart nearly skipped a beat-because there, sitting at the table, was Rick-eating breakfast and drinking orange juice, just like any other day.

Morty froze; his stomach dropped to his toes, and he felt his blood run cold.

"Mort?" his father greeted him pleasantly without looking up from the morning paper. "Finally come to join the family? Come on over and take a seat."

It took a few moments before Morty could move and for the pins and needles to subside. When they did, he passed by Rick without looking him in the eye and reluctantly joined the rest of the family as his father had requested.

A plate full of freshly cooked scrambled eggs and sausage waited for him, a feast for his eyes, but his stomach protested immediately just at the sight of them.

"Honey?" His mother's voice filtered in with gratingly sweet concern. "Aren't you going to have any….? I made eggs and sausage-it's your favorite, right?"

"S-sorry Mom-I-I uh…" Morty's face flushed bright crimson as he pushed the food around with his fork. "I kinda have a, a stomach ache, um…" His eyes traveled slowly over to Rick, who was continuing to eat without interruption, seemingly not concerned one bit with Morty's lack of appetite. Morty couldn't take his eyes off the man, and after a second or two, Rick's eyes lifted and met his grandson's, suddenly realizing that he was being watched.

"The fuck's wrong with you?" Rick snapped with a defensive glower as Morty continued to stare, and when Morty flinched as though he'd been slapped, Rick dropped his fork to the table with alarm. "Jesus h. Christ Morty-" Rick hissed as he leaned over the table, "you-you're looking at me like I've got three, three heads or something! What, what the hell's gotten into you-"

"Maybe he's staring at that gigantic wart on your nose, Grandpa Rick," Summer interrupted with a calm smirk on her face as she continued to type away on her cell phone.

Rick shot her a look of complete and utter disgust. "Nobody asked _you_ Summer!" was his automatic retort before turning back to glare again at Morty. "You better spit it out Mortimer," he declared flatly as Morty stared down at his untouched food, his face beet red with embarrassment, "because you're making my fucking skin crawl on all fours, grow a tailbone and run away screaming!"

"It's, it's nothing-just, just f-f-forget it!" To his mother's astonishment, Morty promptly pushed the plate away and distanced himself at once from the table.

"Honey what about your food!" his mother called with unrestricted panic filling her voice, as Morty ran from the room.

"I-I'm gonna be late-I'll eat at school!" Morty lied.

He was actually relieved that it was Thursday, because he'd be in school all day, distracted with class work, and later, he'd hole himself up in his room, and try to forget that Rick even existed, and hope that somehow he'd managed to come back to reality, and that the whole crazy thing had been just one weird long dream.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Rick and Morty". I wouldn't want to, because Dan Harmon and Justin Roiland give it their own, and they make it work! But, that being said, do keep in mind that I also don't live have a spaceship, or live on an alien planet unlike our own. A girl can dream though….right? ;)

 **Author's Note:** Just to mention...this chapter gets pretty dark and twisted and kind of fucked-up scary. (Always platonic, no worries about that one ever, with any of my stories.) And please keep in mind...this story won't exactly have the happiest ending (it is going to be darkly bittersweet) and for that, I'm dreadfully sorry...but not all stories can have happy endings and, sometimes, a story needs you to go places you don't exactly want to go. If anyone sounds OOC here, just know it was pretty hard to imagine Rick like this, but-he's pretty crazy in the head right now. He won't be forever. Just bare with me.

* * *

When Morty got home from school he next day, the house was eerily empty (his father was typically home, as he was in desperate search of a new job after being fired from his old one). That is, it was eerily empty save for Rick, who was working as usual in the garage.

Typically, the first thing Morty would do when he got home would be to grab a snack and a drink from the fridge and visit Rick to see what he was up to. This day, however, Morty didn't feel much like talking, and Rick was the last person he wanted to see after the night before.

Besides, it was really troubling him that Rick seemed to either not remember what had happend, or didn't care- and Morty wasn't sure what was worse, that he didn't care, or he didn't remember. Both scenarios were equally disturbing and he didn't know how to confront the man about it. He was actually relieved that nobody else was home because all he wanted to do was sleep.

After passing out on his bed, he woke up to his mother knocking and calling him for dinner. "N-not hungry," was his muffled response from under the bed covers. His mother promptly came in without knocking and lifted a concerned hand to her son's forehead.

"Well….you don't feel warm…." Beth didn't know what to make of Morty's behavior; her son had never missed a meal in his life.

"...stomach ache," Morty mumbled into his pillow, "something I ate at, at school I guess…" _Just please go away,_ he wanted to tell her, _my head is killing me, Rick's gone crazy, and I really don't want to talk about it._

"Okay honey, you rest," Beth allowed, "let me know if you change your mind and get hungry later- I'll bring it to you."

"Th-thanks Mom." Morty felt himself nodding off and didn't have the heart to stop himself from letting it happen. He quickly fell back asleep.

* * *

His arm was warm.

No- this wasn't just warmth.

It was PAIN.

It was an unbearable, stinging, bburning, _searing_ pain- a pain unlike Morty had never felt in his life-

-an overwhelming pain that shot through him and lead to a scream exploding from his gut, one that was so loud that he shot upwards in bed, and then nearly passed out again because his arm felt like it was _on fire_.

And there-there was Rick- standing right over his bed, grinning like a maniac as Morty tried not to whimper as he cradled his burning arm. Eyes widening as his mind slowly regained consciousness, Morty stared down in astonishment at his arm, where a large red welt was beginning to form- both terrified and horrified, Morty saw Rick removed a lit cigarette from his lips and blow a cloud of smoke in his direction.

The smoke distracted him slightly from the pain as Morty struggled to breath, coughing and hacking, staring up at Rick with hurt in his eyes, a lump in his throat, shivering in the dim light from the lamp on his nightstand.

"Rick…." Morty whimpered, "...why?"

"Isn't it obvious MORTY." Rick shook his head with a sneer. "You're not real- thus, I can do whatever I fucking please with you! Whatever it is, you're not really hurt- so don't be such a baby about it because you're seriously killing the mood."

"What!?" Morty's head was in a spin and he wanted to throw up. "Are- are you serious Rick!? Of- of course I'm real!" Morty felt tears welling up in his eyes and angrily flicked them away. "I- I've always been real! I- I don't understand…." Morty sniffed as he hugged his stinging skin. "What...why are doing this to me? I- I never did anything to you-"

"Oh come off it Morty- sure you have." Rick stalked the room back and forth as though agitated by the statement, seeming completely indifferent to the pain his grandson was currently in. "At least-your no-simulated counterpart did- if it weren't for needing you, do you know where I'd be right now, MORTY? I'd be traveling the universe, without a care in the world! But of course, here I am Morty-" Rick nearly spit the word in his face- "stuck here, with this stupid excuse of a family on this stupid excuse for a planet."

"...Rick…." Morty tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "...but...but…" He cringed as another wave of pain shot through him and he shivered, sniffling. "We're your family!"

"HA! Right." Rick snickered manically. "You're my holographic family. How fucking convenient."

"Rick! My-I'm hurt!" Morty cried out, as he held up his arm for Rick to see- but the man simply turned away, only his back facing him. "Jeeze Rick…" Morty was trying desperately hard not to cry. "What-what happened to you? I- I don't get it! Why are you acting this way? Why did you- why are you hurting me like this?"

"Oh come on you can whine a little better than that, can't you, MORTY?" Rick rolled his eyes as if disgusted by Morty's words. "I mean, the REAL Morty whines all fucking day-but at least he does it with gusto, like he really means it! This," Rick shook his head, "is just half-assed pathetic." At that, Rick blew another ring of smoke in Morty's direction. "You want to prove yourself to me, Morty?" Rick leered at him as he held the cigarette but out to him. "Here-take a drag….then, stamp it out-on me."

"What!? NO!" Morty's eyes grew wide as he stared down at the lit butt in horror. "Rick-I can't, I'm not doing that! This-this-this is, this is CRAZY!" Morty's eyes fled to the door in a panic. "I- I'm gonna go tell Mom-"

"The fuck you're NOT!" Rick's hand had gripped his other unharmed arm in a vice, and yanked him backwards, so quickly Morty nearly fell over. "You do that and they're gonna say you- you're a FAILURE, Morty! You hear me?! You're a failure, a no-good, a nothing-is that really what you want to become, MORTY!?"

"At least I'm not a crazy psychopath!" The words left Morty's lips before he could stop them.

"TAKE THE FUCKING CIGARETTE!" Rick shouted, sticking it abruptly in Morty's hands; the lit butt burnt his fingers and, yelping, Morty dropped it on the floor. "GREAT!" Rick was even more pissed now than before; Morty had never seen him so angry, and it terrified him. He watched with horror as Rick scrambled to pick up the still partially lit cigarette. "Here-" Rick forced the butt into Morty's hands, and Morty, his fingers trembling, finally managed to take hold of it. "Stamp it out," Rick growled darkly as he leaned forward, close enough so that Morty could smell the alcohol on his breath, "and do it now."

"But-but-" Morty choked out the words as his entire body trembled, "I- I don't want to- to hurt you-"

"Too late!" Rick snapped, yanking Morty's good arm forward, "STAMP!"

"Rick…"

"NOW!"

Cringing and shutting his eyes, Morty slowly brought the butt forward and, before he could change his mind (though Rick probably wouldn't have let him) he pressed the butt down on Rick's skin.

Rick let out what Morty could only describe as half-laughter an half crazed cackle as the cigarette burned deep into his skin. "Oh yeah baby! THAT'S the stuff!" Rick snickered devilishly as a pleased grin came over his features. "C'mon, Mort, remind good ol' Grandpa that he's real! Keep it on there, let it burn!"

Morty felt the tears escape from his eyes, he couldn't help it. He'd never experienced anything like this in his life. He didn't know what to do; he could only imagine what had happened to Rick to make him like this. This was like a living nightmare he couldn't seem to wake up from. He held the butt in place a few seconds longer before Rick collapsed, subconsciously drooling at his feet, and Morty ran for the bathroom, where he puked up his insides for at least a half hour, after which he scrambled for the medicine cabinet and found the first Aid kit, with which he used to, tears still streaming, bandage Rick's arm, and then his own.

"I'm...so sorry," Morty whispered through his tears, grateful that nobody else had managed to get woken up during the whole fiasco. "Oh God Rick….I'm just so sorry."


End file.
